


Reflection Chamber

by doc_boredom



Series: Stellar Objects [1]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Lore Building, Mental Instability, Past Drug Addiction, bombus mention, canon typical angst if you will, i dun fucked up meouch whoops, minor self harm mentions, pining!phobos, sorry i dun fucked up havve too wHOOPS, teenage!twrp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/doc_boredom
Summary: "So it was him and Sung and Phobos and Meouch all cramped up into a too small ship sailing through the stars. Sung doing his best to bring them together while Phobos stayed his tongue and took to hiding in what corners he could, breath sawing in and out of him more desperately with each passing day as Meouch, the broken thing, went through two to three packs of cigarettes in response, trying to stave off his growing desperation for Funk and whatever else he could get his paws on."-Two part fic that was inspired by violent-violim's prompt of "Phobos and Havve save a city in space" that I let get ahead of itself before I could help it.





	1. Vitriolum

Havve Hogan was aware of quite a few things despite only having been alive (for lack of better words) for a few years now. Such as how murder was one of those things that most planets frowned upon and found in bad taste, or that sometimes apologies weren’t enough for some people and there was nothing you could do about it.

In a less universal and more personal sense, Havve Hogan was aware of the fact that he not so secretly terrified Lord Phobos.

He didn't need Sung to tell him that. Empath abilities or no. It wasn't a secret that the Lepid would shy away from him as he came into a room, keeping to corners, watching Havve in a wary way even when Sung was there controlling the space. "Can't you do something about that?” Sung would later groan, picking up on the stilted awkwardness of it all. Havve would simply tilt his head in silent question, pretending not to know what he meant. “You loom, Havve.” Sung would then sigh. “You gotta do something about the looming.”

But this body was still hard to make sense of some days. It was so much easier to let it creep along silently as it had been made to do, a hidden and reclusive thing. To let his limbs snap to sharp attention, to light his way with his blood red optics, to be that silent guardian that he had been crafted to be. It didn’t make for the prettiest picture, hell, _he_ didn’t, but Havve had never felt the need to change it for anybody else before. He was who he was, through and through. 

So why make an exception for the skittish Lepid Lord?

And besides, Phobos barely made his way near _any_ of them unless it was completely necessary, doing his best to avoid the recovering addict Leoian Sung had decided to add to their ranks as well. Havve hadn’t been pleased with that sudden executive decision either, especially given how Phobos and Meouch had been in a fight to the death when Sung had stepped in to propose it. Pleading with them to lay their weapons down, to reconsider this supposed foolish venture of theirs.

Ever the bleeding heart, ever the hero.

So it was him and Sung and Phobos and Meouch all cramped up into a too small ship sailing through the stars. Sung doing his best to bring them together while Phobos stayed his tongue and took to hiding in what corners he could, breath sawing in and out of him more desperately with each passing day as Meouch, the broken thing, went through two to three packs of cigarettes in response, trying to stave off his growing desperation for Funk and whatever else he could get his paws on.

 _You have to do something about these charity cases._  They were in Sung's room, which was where they ended up more often than not, the young empath boy always working on something while Havve hung out in the doorway, not needing the same comforts as him.He knew Sung had heard him. There had been just enough of a pause while he worked on the strange helmet sitting in front of him, the slightest twitch to his shoulders, a momentary hitch. Maybe it was the wording, maybe it was the implication it held.

There had been a boy named Bombus once upon a time, like Phobos and Meouch but not. Down on his luck and without a credit to his name after Mojave had wiped him clean. They (read: Sung) had allowed him to stay for free as he found himself once more; surprising them both as he helped lay the foundation to the songs that had been traipsing around Sung’s mind for years at that point. His fingertips had been quick and eager along slick guitar strings, his voice warbling and soft as it complimented Sung’s own robotic talk box tone. And all the while the drumming thing in Havve demanded that he follow along, even if it was from a distance, even if was too late at night for three boys to be up and distinctly alive.

He had up and just left one day, a year ago almost if Havve dug into his memory files, taking the guitar with him and leaving behind a hastily scrawled letter and a handful of noted music sheets behind.

Sung hadn’t pulled them out since.

The ghost of Bombus lingered between them and Havve hated it. Hated _him_. He'd probably kill Bombus if he ever saw him again for how his absence needled through the empath, a constant, digging pain. I _mean it, Sung._ He insisted, not letting it go. 

The empath had swiveled in his chair and proceeded to give him a _look_. Havve had seen all sorts of expressions upon the empath’s face over the years but there were some that appeared more often than not. There was the excited Sung, whose mouth fell open as joy overcame him, the green-blue of his eye shining. That one was almost constant. There was the introspective Sung, his brow furrowing just so, lips pressing into a careful, thoughtful line as he became surprisingly quiet. There was the angry Sung too. He almost never showed his face around here, with his lip curled back, skin pulling as if it weren’t accustomed to making such an expression… No, that was a Sung he was thankfully not familiar with.

But then there was the current Sung he was looking at right now that he knew all too well.

The pouting Sung.

 _Sung._ He said a bit more sternly across their link. _Do not give me that look._ He knew what he was doing too. Sometimes Sung’s expressions came as complete surprises to the empath, but he had spent hours perfecting this one. It was akin to a kicked puppy in the rain, desperate and helpless, just looking for a hug… _I swear._ Havve hissed in warning.

Sung was sixteen years old now. This should _not_ work. Would not work. He was well past the phase of pouting and whining until he got what he wanted. He was a young man who had responsibilities and things that the universe and society expected of him and yet here he was, lower lip jutting out, lashes lowered over his eye as he turned his face to the floor.

His head tipped to one sighed, shoulders falling with only half faked melancholy. “They’re our friends though.” Sung sighed morosely, the cherry on top.

Your _friends._ Havve reminded him after reigning in an incredulous snort, not taking the bait. _And barely that. Meouch is this close to snapping and Phobos…_

Sung’s pout left him and was replaced by judgement, much too scandalized for the situation in Havve's opinion. “Well you don’t help with that one!” He huffed aloud.

 _I’m well aware of your feelings on how I apparently make Lord Phobos’s life a living hell, Sung._ Havve closed the distant between them and shoved at his shoulder, glaring down at the shorter boy. _As you are aware of my feelings on how I’m not going to let you remodel me completely just so he can have some peace of mind._ Sung opened his mouth, protests faint in the back of his mind, but Havve spoke over them loudly, not giving them a chance to come out. _They don’t belong here, especially together. You hoping that they’re just going to make amends isn’t going to change anything, and even if they do-_

The words went unspoken but Sung knew what he was about to say. They’ll _leave_. Without warning, without ever looking or coming back, just like Bombus did. Sung drew in a sharp breath and finally the last expression made itself known.

Sad Sung.

Sad Sung was Havve’s _least_ favorite Sung, more so over angry Sung, because at least Havve knew how to deal with anger. He had been made from it, after all. Rage had been the first thing he had felt when he had awoken in those icy caverns, blinding him as he laid waste to innumerable lives, Sung sleeping on and on and on only a few feet away.

His face all but crumpled at the implication of Phobos and Meouch just leaving, his core going dim with it in response. _I’m just being realistic._ Havve said in a much softer, imploring voice. He hoped it would come as a comfort but Sung just leaned back into his chair, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip until a stinging pain bloomed between them.

“You don’t know that though.” Sung said in a small, breaking voice. And somehow the knot in Sung's throat was suddenly his, as was the ache in his chest. Sometimes the link got like that, blurring out their differences, bringing them painfully close. Havve pushed past it though, forcing his processors figure it out, needing logic to win out over the emotion. You're you. Not Sung, you, he told himself. Made up of an 808, innumerable bolts and wires, too many screws. Not Sung. Not _him_. Havve. You're Havve, he repeated the single fact over and over again until it was undeniable.

His fingers jerked against the swell of Sung's shoulder as the link found its center once more itself. He was himself again. Only himself.

When his optics met Sung's eye he realized with a wash of guilt that he had pushed the other too far. It was time to do damage control. _I don’t, but something in me says that the longer this goes on without any kind of recognition, the more likely it is that they will. They can’t stand to be near one another for good reason, Sung._ Meouch’s guilt lay along a knife’s edge, sharp and dangerous, his inevitable relapse pushing him closer and closer to a place where Sung wouldn’t be able to save him from, and Phobos…

Each breath in was a reminder of how he was still alive somehow, each breath out of how he was deformed, his back stretching with it, the scars where his wings ought to be pulling to the point of pain. Poor Phobos didn’t know how to repay Sung’s kindness by any means, how to address Meouch’s presence in his life.

Phobos didn't even know to make sense of this world he was in now, having committed himself to dying during that fight.

A world in which he was only Lepid left alive.

Havve only knew these things because of Sung and their link. Sung only knew them because he was an empath, not because Phobos had told him. And Phobos couldn't even tell him or anyone really because he refused to speak.

That in itself was part of the problem. Sung was the only one with a voice out of all of them. Havve had maybe heard Meouch speak a handful of times, his voice a growling, awful thing, but Phobos was completely silent. Not a sigh, not a sneeze, not a peep. To him, at least. Just his ragged breath echoing through the halls late at night until Sung found him as he always did, speaking in hushed tones until it finally went away.

“So, what do you suggest?” Sad Sung was fading and an unreadable Sung was appearing in its place. Havve cocked his head, tapping the side of his face plate in thought. He owed Sung that much after making him so upset. What to do, what to do, what to do…

“I got it.” Before he can dig into Sung’s brain there’s a wall coming down, effectively blocking him out. The empath grinned in response, causing Havve to eye him warily.

 _What are you up to?_ Havve questioned slowly, fearfully almost.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” And just like that he was gone.

This couldn’t end well.

It almost never did when it came to Sung and his machinations.

All Havve could do those is hope for the best and ride it out.

-

Sung had a way of making things happen when they were least expected. So Havve _tried_ to expect it, tried to plan for something completely unexpected, for something out of left field.

And because of that it just happened, of course.

Havve was sitting at the table, head bent over the sketchpad in his lap, working circle after circle onto the page. He wanted to see how much of it was 'muscle memory' at this point, or if it was just his processors forcing it into the perfect shape. Meouch, on the other hand, the other side, was sitting across from him because he couldn’t stand to be alone and because he didn’t trust himself to be alone either.

This too was something he knew because of Sung. Not because he was privvy to it. 

He was working a sharp claw into the table, chipping away at a spot he had begun to worry into it a week earlier. He knew its presence had come as an unpleasant surprise to Sung but the empath had kept quiet about it, and in turn the groove became deeper and deeper with each passing day. Ignoring the problem, hoping it would go away, hoping things would just fix themselves. Sounded like Sung, alright. Havve pushed his pen a bit harder, Meouch dug a bit deeper.

“HELLO!”

His pen slipped at the sudden intrusion, the door to the kitchen banging open as Sung pushed his way in, Phobos in tow. He saw Meouch’s hackles rise before he leaned as far back in his chair as he could without falling over. _Sung._ Havve warned, optics flashing with it, already not liking where this was going, taken aback by the sudden energy pouring through their link.

Sung’s core flickered back in a teasing and light way, his thoughts obscured as he pulled the poor Lepid along. They stood at the head of the table, well, Sung did... Phobos hid behind him, shuddering slightly, face hidden against the empath’s back. Did he not see or feel what was going on?This was a lot, even for the empath. If Havve had to step in he’d do it, damn it.

“Now I know that things are a little weird. They’ve been weird for a while now and that’s why I’m doing _this_.” He slapped his hand down on the table, beaming at them, apparently unable to read the room despite being a gods damned empath. “Team building exercise time.” He grinned, all teeth, no regrets.

Havve was certain he had misheard the other because he couldn’t be that stupid, could he? He ‘closed’ his eyes for a moment, sitting in complete darkness as he played back the audio that had just left Sung’s eager mouth. Team building exercise, team building exercise…

 _No._ He barked down their link as his eyes lit up again, zeroing in on the empath. _Sung, you_ cannot _be serious._

“We’re gonna split up, of course.” He continued on breezily, like he couldn’t hear Havve seething at him, even as literally no one responded to this supposedly great idea of his. “Me and Meouch, Havve and Phobos.”

 _Sung._ Oh no, not this, anything but this convoluted bullshit that Sung had surely dreamed up overnight, so certain that this is what it would take to make them one big happy family. It didn’t work that way. It _wouldn’t_ work that way. No chance in hell.

“I spent the whole night digging up info on some places that looked like they needed help.” Sung went on, humming easily. Havve spared a glance at Meouch, gauging his reaction. He looked absolutely wrecked by the proposal, his ears pinned close to his head, his tail wrapped around his stomach, kneading his paws into his thighs over and over again.

No, he wasn’t kneading, he was pushing his nails into the fabric, into his fur.

Into his _skin_ …

Havve stood and stalked around the table, grabbing Sung’s forearm as he yanked him to the side. Phobos moved just as quickly, jumping away from them, his inky eyes unblinking as he stared. Sung looked up at him, Havve looked back.

 _Trust me._ Sung pleaded across their link, trying for a smile and failing miserably.

 _Trust you?!_ Havve tightened his grip just so, fingers digging into the still developing muscles that lined Sung’s bicep. _You can’t even be bothered to tell me what you’re planning and you want me to trust you?_

 _Yes, no, I don’t know._ Desperation colored his words and yet neither of them moved. _Gods, can we just try this?_

 _Like Phobos is going to go with_ me _, Sung._ If only he could roll his eyes, sneer, use something besides words and thoughts and feelings to convey himself. There was something about making an emotion visible, about wearing it upon your face.

All he had with this damn mask…

“Can you both stop with the secret conversation over there?” Meouch rasped. He had a cigarette between his paws, flicking it between his digits, quick and nervous as can be. “Listen, Doctor, I get that you saved me and I probably owe you something, but I’m going to have to pass.” That had to be the most he had heard out of the Leoian since they met. Even Phobos seemed astounded by the amount of words that Meouch has somehow spoke into existence, blinking at him in this curious, quiet way.

Sung gave what should have been a charming laugh but instead it stuttered and fell. “C’mon, just… can you just at least _try_ coming with, Meouch? Same with you, Phobos. I know… I know you’re worried, and nervous, and like… scared of Havve. But he’s like, totally chill.”

 _...Chill…?_ Havve questioned slowly, a twitch of annoyance skittering across the link at the phrasing. Sung gave him a dry look before shaking his head, ignoring him. “Yes, you heard me right, Havve’s chill.” Sung smiled his best ‘you can trust me!’ smile at the Lepid, hoping to win him over, but like his laugh there was an awkwardness about it, something you couldn't miss.

Phobos, in turn, inclined his head to where his hand is still wrapped around Sung’s arm. How perfect. Sung went to shrug him off but Havve held on tight, his grim smugness making itself known. _Fuck you, bastard, let go._ Sung growled.

Havve finally relented but the damage was done. Phobos was inching back towards the door, hands clasping and unclasping in front of him, his wariness palpable from here. “Phobs.” Sung said with a desperation Havve was certain he had never heard before. The Lepid paused, looked up...

Something touched upon Sung’s senses, and in turn, touched upon his.

Oh?

Phobos quickly looked away but stayed standing there, hands now twisting in front of him, over and over. Havve watched as Sung moved slowly, approaching him like you would a wounded animal, careful and quiet as could be. “You don’t have to go, if you really don’t want.” He spoke softly, leaning in towards the other male. “I know this is sudden, and really unfair of me, but I thought maybe…” Sung’s throat worked awkwardly as he dropped his face to the ground, embarrassment flooding across his features and senses. 

A pregnant silence swelled and even Meouch seemed to notice it, perking towards it. Havve watched as Phobos took a half step closer, leaning his body into Sung's. There was a whole two inch difference between the two and it shouldn’t be so much and yet it _was_ in it's own special way. Sung looked up and Havve continued to watch as Phobos touched the spot he had gripped moments earlier with just the tips of his fingers, tracing it absently.

Without warning an image of Sung's fingers tracing their way along the lines of Phobos's palms filled his head and Havve didn't know how to react until Phobos offered Sung the smallest of nods, silently meeting his request.

“...Yeah?” Sung breathed in disbelief. Phobos glanced in his direction then, staring at Havve for a moment.

Havve stared back.

It was absolutely nothing like the moment the empath and Lepid had shared only moments before.

Phobos looked away and nodded and that was that.

“Okay, holy shit okay. Uh, nice. So, yeah!” Sung popped away from Phobos like they hadn’t just shared a strangely intimate moment, smiling all the way, not noticing the way the Lepid’s antennae drooped just so. _Oblivious bastard_ , Havve thought to himself as he watched the empath approach the table once more. _Could you be anymore stupid?_

 _What was that?_ Sung blinked up at him innocently. Havve blanched and shook his head, glad that only that last little bit had leaked out between them.

 _You heard me, you’re stupid, Sung._ He said it without any real heat, causing Sung to stick out his tongue before smiling in response.

“Y’know, I still haven’t agreed.” Meouch growled out. He was bringing that cigarette from earlier up to his mouth, lighting it so quickly that even Havve’s optics could barely keep up with it. He inhaled slowly and in response an undeniable twinge of jealousy and hate came off of Phobos.

“Well I’ll just have to join Havve and Phobos then.” Oh Sung was a bastard now for completely different reasons. The end of Meouch’s cigarette flared as he pulled it from his maw and just like that he was purposely stubbing it out in the gouge he had managed to make, the hint of a wicked smile upon his features as he did. Sung’s bottom lid twitched in response, annoyance flaring.

 _Careful, Sung._ Havve warned.

 _I’ve got this_. Sung countered and Havve wasn’t entirely too sure if he should believe him or not.

“I’m sure you can handle being by yourself, Commander.” Sung said, voice pitching a bit cooly. The phrasing a gun, Sung's inflection akin to the trigger being pulled. Meouch’s tail twitched in response, foot bouncing twice on the floor. Sung smiled but only with his mouth, his eye flat, the implication of Sung's threat aimed and ready to fire. The Leoian exhaled sharply through his nose before bringing his paw up to his face and Havve couldn’t help but notice the blood on the ends of his claws.

“Fine.” Meouch finally growled out, shoving his chair out violently. The loudness of it caused Phobos to curl away, but Sung didn’t even flinch, not even as the Leoian stalked past him. “Let me know when you’re ready, _Doc_.” Meouch snarled before slamming out the door.

 _Oh,_ Havve said after a moment, not sure if he should be amused or furious. _This is obviously going to end very well._

Sung’s temple twitched, his mouth pulling further. “Fuck off, Havve.”

Phobos’s shoulders moved with a sigh but nothing came out of him.

Very well indeed.

-

“I made you this.”

Phobos was suiting up when Sung approached him. He was suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that the zipper on the back of his suit was sitting at the small of his back, waiting to be pulled up. There was that and the fact that Sung wasn’t entirely sure of what personal space was, always so eager to close up any space between them in a matter of seconds once he entered a room, always sticking close.

Phobos forced himself to really look at Sung. Not just his smiling freckled face either. No, look down, at whatever the hell he had in his hands Phobos. A helmet? His head tipped one way and then another, several questions springing to his tongue.

He didn’t dare speak any of them.

“See, first off, space safety.” Sung lifted it up, sensing his question, swiveling it just so as he did. “But also, get this, so obviously you’ve been having some breathing problems since… well, you know.” He trailed off awkwardly, that strange light in his chest dimming with it before he brightened again, verbally and physically, a gods damned light in the dark if Phobos had ever seen one. “Since the incident! And I thought why not equip you with some respirators! That way, if you feel like you’re having trouble breathing you can just hit this button and…!” The empath grinned excitedly as a hissing sound issued from it. “Buh-bam, it’s like a built in aspirator. Plus, you know, now no one’s gonna know what you are either with this! That’s probably for the best, right?”

Phobos reached over, fingers skimming across the top of the helmet before they slipped down the tinted glass that covered where his eyes would be, brows raising at his warped reflection. “This material’s great too because you can see out but they can’t see in. C’mon, try it on!” Sung gave an excited little wiggle. Phobos hefted it upwards before his antennae curled worriedly. “Ah, yeah, uh… let me help!”

With his hands occupied like this there was no way of objecting, so that’s how Phobos found himself with Sung’s fingers at his back, oh so careful as he pulled the zipper up the length of his spine. He was humming under his breath as he did, aimless and without any real melody, but soothing all the same.

“There we go.” Sung said after what could have only been seconds but instead had felt like hours to him. “I can help with the helmet too, but I would just suggest pulling your hood up first, and then… yeah, like that.” It helped to busy his hands, to listen to Sung’s instructions rather than thinking of how nice it had felt when the other boy had brushed his fingers across his neck. He pulled it up over his too short hair, shorn to the scalp by his own hand, tucking the helmet under his arm awkwardly. “Okay, now, yeah… uh… turn it a bit.” Sung snorted, took a step closer once more, casting them in a strange and humorous dance. “Lemme help you Phobs.”

Gods, he shouldn’t like it so much when Sung called him that. But he did. Oh, he most definitely did.

He shifted awkwardly and bent at the knees, giving just a bit of leeway to the shorter male, directing his thoughts away from how they had stood across from one another in the kitchen, Sung's body swaying so easily into his. Those hands came up and around him and Phobos quickly realized how close they would really be if not for the damned helmet on his head.

“There.” Something snapped in the back and Sung was touching his neck again, his shoulders, rocking back on his heels and smiling that damned perfectly imperfect smile of his (a bit lopsided, with a chipped front tooth and slightly sharper than normal incisors that always managed to catch the light.) Phobos raised his head before he could do anything stupid, testing out the weight of his strange new headwear. There was just a bit of a heaviness to the helmet, comforting almost in the way he was able to bob and dip his head with a newfound ease thanks to it. “Oh wow! Okay! It looks great!” Sung clapped his hands together, delighted. “Gods, I’m good at this.” He said under his breath then, chuckling in a pleased way.

Did it really? He touched the outside of it again, trying to get a sense of it and how it cast him in a new, alien shape. “Oh, well, it would probably help if you could see it, wouldn’t it?” Sung scoffed, rolling his eye at himself as he did. “C’mon.” Once again Sung was grabbing his hand without a second thought, just like he had done before when he dragged him to the kitchen.

And just like before, Phobos let him.

Sung brought him into the nearest bathroom and flicked on the light, casting the room in a glaring fluorescent as he did. Phobos reached up to touch the sides of the helmet, watching as his reflection did the same in response. “See, I told you.” Sung leaned into him on his tiptoes, fingers tweaking along the sides, gently batting Phobos's away. “Just gotta… make sure it’s all good… And... perfect!"

And it was, it really was. He still had his boots from home but the suit had been scrounged up until they had finally found time to buy himself and Meouch new clothes. Meouch’s were still untouched, but Phobos had been eager to lose himself in the new clothing, hoping to erase any memories of previous garments from home.

Home…

“...What’s up, bud?” Sung’s core was bright as his lips pulled down at the corners. He forgot how easily Sung could sense things about him, why he had to be careful with these strange and stupid feelings of his. It didn’t seem like Sung knew any better, but Phobos couldn’t be too sure.

He shook his head, hoping his feigned nonchalance would be enough for the other. Sung’s brow slanted over his eye but he took a step up, holding his hands up as he let it drop.

Good.

“You need anything else, because if not I have another surprise for you. I probably should have grabbed 'em before. You know what, wait here, I’ll be right back.” Sung raced away before Phobos could even blink. Gods, he was a quick little thing. He smiled behind the mouthpiece of his helmet before turning to look at himself again, testing it further. A quick jerk of his head one way and then the next, a few knocks of his palm against it to see how jarring it would feel if he was knocked upside the head, fingers then to the mouthpiece, pulling it away from his mouth…

He saw the bottom of his jaw work in the mirror, the action it already becoming unfamiliar even though it had only been two months, almost three.

It would be so easy to say something like this.

So easy to scream.

He placed the mouthpiece back over his mouth and then he pressed it down. Down until he could feel the metal bite into his skin. Don’t. He told himself. _Don’t._ You don’t get to. You don’t have the right. Silence, that's all you had now. Silence and ash.

The room filled with red and his breath left him in a rush until he looked up and saw Havve's shape in the mirror. He was barely able to bite back the shudder that left him at the sight of the robot, all sharp edges and murderous intent made real. Someone had made that, Phobos realized with no lack of horror. He saw the way Havve watched and listened to everything that happened on this ship, sticking close to Sung like he was his personal body guard, ready to kill whoever got too close.

He reached up and tapped his fingers against the door frame, slow and purposeful, with intent. When Phobos cocked his head he did it again, and then once more, until it was finally upon the third time that the Lepid was able to make sense of it.

Morse code. Havve knew Morse code! 

R E A D Y ? He apparently had been asking, optics following the same pause-beat-pause. 

W A I T I N G. Phobos tapped back slowly in response, digging through his memories, remember how to spell each letter out.

F O R W H O ?

S U N G.

Havve folded his arms across his chest plate and leaned up against the door frame, looking particularly annoyed by the statement. It was always off putting seeing him act almost human like. All Phobos could think about was the way he crept through the halls like a gods damned reaper, waiting to strike. Maybe this would change his mind. Maybe he was just overreacting.

Maybe he would die.

He just wasn’t too eager to trust. Hell, he probably shouldn’t trust Sung as much as he did already- but the empath had wormed his way in without even having to try, already a beaming, steady presence in his life when Phobos needed it the most. How many nights now had Sung found him, helped him out of his panic attacks, waited until his breathing calmed before helping him back to his room, just like the night before? Too many times now to count. More times than Phobos would like to admit.

“I’m ba-! Oh! Havve!” Sung exclaimed as he entered again, grinning up at them. “I didn’t know you were here. What’s with all the walls?” A silent pause rose up between them filled with the simultaneous blinking of Havve's optics and Sung's core. “Rude! Extremely rude!” Sung huffed suddenly, not making a lick of sense until Phobos remembered how exactly they worked. Another silent conversation, just like in the kitchen. Always interesting to witness first hand. Sung pivoted to Phobos, with a grand flourish, shaking his head just so. “He’s calling me names, Phobos. And keeping me out so I can’t call him out on it.”

I T S W H A T H E D E S E R V E S. Havve tapped out. He shouldn’t be amused by it and yet here he was, grinning behind his helmet like an idiot.

D O N T B E M E A N Phobos tapped back, infinitely slower than Havve’s quick staccato fingers but gaining speed as it started to come back to him again. Sung’s eye skipped from him to Havve, a confused but delighted expression finding its way to his features as he realized what was going on.

“Are you two talking in secret code!?” A pause followed in which Sung’s mouth fell open, a loud gasp leaving him as he rounded back on the robot. “Wait, _morse_ code!? What! Okay, no. Now listen here, Hogan. I _did_ read that book!” There came another pause after this statement, Sung turning sheepish with it. “Okay, only the first few chapters, yeah?” He admitted under his breath, flushing up to his pointed ears. Havve tilted his head and Sung colored further, scuffing his foot along the grated floor. “Okay. _Only_ the foreword. Are you happy, Havve?" 

Havve's shoulders jerked with what had to be a disbelieving snort. Phobos figured it couldn't be anything else. "FINE! YOU GOT ME! I DIDN'T READ THE BOOK AT ALL! I'M SORRY I'M A BUSY MAN." 

The last pause had to be the worst of them all, with Havve leveling Sung with the most damning stare he could manage, causing the empath to bristle violently before getting up in his face. Well, as much as a someone who was five foot six could when the other being was six foot or so, even with tip toes. “FUCK YOU, I AM _SO_ A MAN.” He shrieked. “JUST BECAUSE I’M SIXTEEN AND A HALF-!”

His voice cracked at the perfect moment and Phobos bit down on his tongue, resisting the urge to laugh. He tapped Sung's shoulder instead, grabbing his attention once more before he could really go off. “Oh, fuck, right! Phobos!" He said it like he had actually forgotten he had been standing there in the tiny bathroom, which was really more funny than sad if he was being honest with himself. "Thanks a lot, Havve! Distracting me from my official business. I’m sorry for that, _Lord_ Phobos.” Sung sighed dramatically before clearing his throat. “I bring you armor for your escapades.”

It was the same bronzey rose-gold that his helmet was, shoulder pads that went over his forearms, bulky knee pads, wrist guards, a small belt and a chest piece as well. “We practically match.” Sung whispered in a conspiratorial and delighted way and his heart thrilled with it, painfully and stupidly so. “But we’re gonna have to get you some new kicks. Those are neat boots, sure, but do they look as cool as _these?!_ ” Sung drew back and did an impressive high kick with his white high tops, _dangerously_ close to Havve’s face. And the same robot Phobos had made sure to tread carefully around, the same one who all too commonly walked through their ship with a blade in hand, stood there silently, willingly, not so much as reacting if only to let his shoulders heave with an exasperated sigh. “HOO-AH. I THINK NOT!” Sung bellowed, not even noticing the lack of response from Havve.

Gods. It was getting increasingly hard to keep his supposed vow of silence around Doctor Sung.

“Okay, we’ve…” Havve gave a loud creak as he shook his head at Sung. “Fine. _I_ , apparently, have wasted enough time here and should go collect our feline friend. I know how excited he is, after all, to go on this grand adventure of ours.” Sung turned his smiling face to Phobos as he brought a hand down upon Havve’s back. They made for such an odd pair, such a difference in height, in personality, in _everything_. One shining, one made of lack. “Havve here knows where you’re going, so good luck guys!”

The reality of it settled in right there and then and Phobos felt his breath get painfully tight in his chest. Sung wouldn’t be there, he’d be left alone to Havve and whatever devices he saw fit. He had watched the way the robot had worked his knives against the whetstone some nights, the way he filled the room with his damning presence. How sometimes late at night, when Sung was still asleep and his breathing had just begun to falter Phobos would hear distant drums, speeding up faster and faster until something splintered loudly and Havve finally stopped.

One moment of mutual understanding didn't mean anything, his timid heart bleated at him.

Havve inclined his head and stepped out into the hallway, nowhere near as affected as him. And would he be? This was nothing to him. _Phobos_ was nothing to him. The Lepid boy took his time putting on the armor, trying to calm his breathing as he did. This would be fine. And if it wasn’t you would finally have an excuse to leave, right?

But where would you even go, Phobos? The voice he hadn't used in months interrogated him.

He didn’t know what the world was like out there. The universe, for that matter. The Lepids had been closed off for ages now since the Leoian’s had first betrayed their trust years ago. They had been so close to changing all of that when it had happened.

The death, the destruction, the flame.

Deimos, Deimos, Deimos.

His breath winded itself tighter and tighter until he was falling back into the bathroom, clutching at the sides of his helmet. He needed it off, needed to pull real air into his lungs, needed to get out.

In, out. In, out.

Out, out, out!

Someone angled his face upwards, pressed the mechanism that allowed for the respirators to kick in. He sucked it in desperately, feeling his lungs expand in response. The world washed with color once more and Phobos startled when he realized it was Havve glaring down at him, his hands on either side of his helmet, keeping him boxed in. B R E A T H E. The robot reminded him, tapping it out along the metal of his helmet, his gaze unwavering.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

_Breathe._

He came back to himself and saw the damage he had managed to inflict on the small space. He had tripped over himself somehow and knocked over the soap dish and several shampoo bottles resting on the lip of the tub, their contents spilled out along it's base. Phobos felt the apology all too eager to spring from his lips and ducked his head instead, painfully embarrassed. S O R R Y. He finally tapped out along Havve’s wrist.

Havve pinned him with a long and heavy stare, optics dimming just so. Phobos bit his lip from behind his mask, reminding himself to remain calm, to not fall into that earlier panic once more.

D O N T W O R R Y. Havve finally responded. L E T S J U S T G O.

-

Sung deposited them on a strange and eerie planet made up of mist and fog and mystery.

It was cold. Something inside of Havve informed him that it was forty some degrees farenheit and apt to drop the longer they were here. Phobos cut a strange and interesting figure with his helmet upon his head now, done up in that armor Sung had made for him. They had tested the antennae attached to it earlier, making sure it could pick up Havve’s signal. R E A D Y? He tapped out and Phobos perked with it before nodding in response.

Team building exercise. Havve still wasn’t sure what to make of that except that they were apparently here to lend a helping hand. But what was there even to do here? He crouched down and dug his fingers into the ground, grimacing internally at how it gave away to absolute mush the deeper he went in. W A S T E L A N D? Phobos asked warily.

M A Y B E. Havve issued back, studying it as he pulled his hand out, not trusting the way the ground seemed insistent on holding onto him. It wasn’t contaminated by any means, but at the same time there was nothing alive in it either.

Damn it, Sung.

He had gone and based this all off of old distress signals that had never been answered by the Federation, claiming that they had an obligation to help. What obligation? Havve had been pressed to ask, but instead he had stayed quiet, knowing that protests wouldn’t amount to anything at this point.

B E C A R E F U L. He warned. It was holding their weight now but there was no way of being certain it would do the same further in. Phobos nodded and slid his leg out in front of him, testing each step before fully taking it. At least one of them could take directions.

Havve followed after, optics cutting through the fog to find each foot step and follow in its path. There wasn’t a sound to be heard around them and for a moment Havve was certain that this wasn’t even real, that it was somehow a dream of Sung’s that he had been pulled into.

 _Nah bud, it’s real._ Sung’s voice was distant across their link but there all the same, bordering on amusement. _You doing okay down there?_

 _Not sure yet._ Havve sighed back. _I’ll let you know if it gets dangerous._

The link went quiet and Havve sighed once more. Phobos had gotten too far ahead for his liking and he had to quicken his steps to catch up. He saw the bright red of his suit and was thankful for once for Sung’s insistence on primary colors (although he had been skipped over for that one, apparently.) P H O B O S. He tapped in warning. S L O W D O W N.

The thing that turned back wasn’t Phobos.

Havve startled back and felt his foot slip into the strange earth, holding him in place. It’s mask was cracked as it advanced forward, a strange metallic substance spilling out from the fine line and down the front of his suit. P H O B O S. He tapped out again with a hint of desperation. Nothing. Not from the twitching stranger or from the real Phobos either, wherever he was. _SUNG!_ He shouted down their link, finding only static waiting for him at the other end.

He pulled out a knife and leveled it at the monster, his 808 Sung had installed inside of him steadying itself out in a calm and killing beat.

It broke apart before he could strike out, a hundred-thousand bright lights spilling out from it as its visor cracked completely, disappearing without a moment’s notice into the dark sky above head. He could feel his 808 speeding up again, echoing around in his chest, but he forced himself to stand still, to not panic. Rewind the video, Havve. You’re in control.

Except he wasn't

Because nothing was there.

-

H A V V E.

He turned on his heel and found nothing but fog. He touched the antenna on the side of his helmet nervously, a low breath shuddering out of him. Alone. He was alone…

What he would give to see those red fog light eyes of Havve’s breaking through the gray, to hear the faint thrum of whatever it was inside of his chest kicking along. Sometimes he was so desperate to be alone.

Sometimes he couldn’t bear it.

Something shifted in the distance and he ought to run. Still, Phobos was anchored there, pretending that everything was okay, that it would work out just fine. H A V V E. He taps a bit faster this time, a bit more desperately.

He saw something part the fog and despite knowing better, or maybe because he knew better, he ran.

Phobos felt the ground give away under his boots but he ran faster than it could catch him, flying almost. For a moment he remembered what limitless joy was, what it had felt like when the wind had caught under his wings, pushing him further forward as the earth raced underneath him. But then reality caught up to him, squeezing his lungs until he saw spots, until he had to finally slow down before he went and killed himself.

The Lepid doubled over with a desperate wheeze, fingers scrambling to find the respirator button. Around him the world held its breath and he was able to take a strange comfort in the silence even as his lungs seemed to burn with each desperate breath he managed to suck in. Finally he hit it and waited until he was finally able to really breathe again.

He was somewhere he shouldn’t be.

Phobos had found the source of the fog, apparently. A strange body of water that was more mirror than it was lake, its stillness unnerving. The Lepid took a slow step forward until he was at the edge of it, peering down into its dark depths.

A hand reached up and he fell back, clamping his hands to the mouthpiece of his helmet, pressing his scream back in. He saw a flash of terrified eyes, another hand reaching up at him (for him?) before it disappeared again, moments from breaking the surface. Phobos scrambled back, staying just out of reach while simultaneously seeking out that face once more. They had sent a distress signal. They needed help, Sung had said.

Reason screamed through him. It was a trap.

Still, he couldn’t help but lean in close, his heart thundering with it. He hadn’t been able to save any of his people. Maybe he could make a difference here, maybe he could save these ones instead. Phobos saw his reflection in the water as he neared, not even wavering, the perfect mirror image.

He touched the water and gasped as he felt glass instead.

The fog gave away and in its place a million bright lights drifted up from the surface of the water. He saw it then, the city underneath, hundreds of faces turned up to him with varying expressions of terror and warning. He moved too slowly, the fog coming up and around him, the lights coalescing into a shape, a body, a being…

Him.

They were turning into him.

And before Phobos could tap out the warning, before he could even open his mouth to break his vow and scream, he was being pulled down into that hidden prison below.


	2. Contritum

He had run through his vid feeds now five times over and there was still nothing to be found.

Everything was there except for what actually mattered. Their landing, the recollection of tapping between himself and Phobos, even the readings for how he had _reacted_ were all there. Everything but the strange figure teetering towards him through the fog. According to them the strange being had never even existed in the first place.

There was the fact of the matter too that his link was pure static, Sung completely lost to him. Something deep inside Havve told him not to panic. You would know if Sung was in trouble, feel some kind of pain, disconnect, something to indicate something had happened.

But would he know if you were in trouble, Havve?

Shaking his head, he touched the right hinge of his jagged maw, screwing and unscrewing the screw that held it in place as he tried to make sense of everything so far one thing at a time. Phobos was missing, they were stranded here, there was some kind of strange monster that didn’t actually exist prowling through the fog that may or may not come back to kill him.

P H O B O S he tapped out one final time across their communications channel, hoping and praying the Lepid would answer.

More static, more emptiness, more nothing.

Havve twisted the screw as tight as it would go and began to move.

His optics barely managed to cut through the dense fog but it was better than nothing. The world held itself still as he made his way through it, tearing through with his knife at the ready. This was where it counted to be that terrible thing that Phobos was so eager to make him out to be. A predator, a hunter… After all, that’s how he and Sung had survived in that frozen wasteland they had woken up in almost three years ago, by Havve being ruthless.

By Sung _letting_ him be.

It wouldn’t make a difference but Havve decided to play back the video once more, letting his memories fill in the gaps this time. He could see it making its way towards him awkwardly, like a puppet on tangled strings. And then there was the fact that it had broken apart into all of those lights right before it reached him, almost like fireflies. It was unstable. Whatever it was hadn’t been able to keep itself together with time.

He had to find it before it found out how. Had to find Phobos too, get them off this gods forsaken planet as soon as he could before it was too late. Havve pressed further into the fog, trying to make out anything in its depths, wanting for some kind of landmark to indicate where he was. _Sung_ , he begged across the link, _if you can hear this… come find us._

More static, more emptiness, more _nothing._

He was overprocessing his RAM like this. Havve could feel himself slowing down with it, becoming disjointed and confused, the man and the machine fighting for dominance inside of him. Forcing himself to his knees, the robot pressed the tip of his knife into the ground. You’ve been here, he told himself as he carved an X into the ground. You made this, it’s _real._

This knife is real, he told himself as he gripped it harder. And you’re real too. And Phobos, and Sung, and Meouch. The ship that you all lived on, the things that you felt… Whatever that thing was, it couldn’t take those things.

Right?

He looked up and saw himself staring back.

It’s eyes weren’t red. They were pitch black, the same substance that had been spilling out of the fake Phobos cutting down its mask like tear tracks. It was all there though, the spiked shoulder pads, the belt at his waist, the knife…

It came at him, a swift and furious thing. His own knife came up too slow and he felt the sharpness of the other’s tear along his side, parting the synthetic material and gouging into the metal. Something inside of him registered pain, systems screaming at him at the damage but Havve ignored them. It was real enough now to attack him, to hurt him.

To try and kill him.

Havve rolled away and came back up, throwing his knife with deadly precision. He had more tucked away and at the ready for all the if and when moments that could happen (that _were_ happening, now that he thought of it.) Thankfully, his aim was true, catching the other Havve in awkward gap that it’s chest piece left between his neck and shoulder hard. It stared at the protruding hilt for a moment, head tilting in an eerily familiar way before it ripped it out without hesitation. Havve saw more of that fluid bleed out of it as it cocked it’s arm back, letting it fly.

He caught it just before it hit and flipped it in his palm, feeling both dangerous and thrilled. He had been made in the moments between life and death, in the desperation of survival. Sung would say Havve had killed for him and would do it again but deep down Havve had done it for himself, to take that rage he had awoken with, desperate to make something of it.

They looked at each other for just a moment before they met with a terrible crash, metal hitting metal, screeching off one another as they grappled. Havve slammed his fist into the side of it’s head, fingers scrambling to gain purchase on it’s mask. Finally he managed to grab it’s jaw, forcing it open as wide as he could. He knew everything inside of himself, the wires and the paneling and the 808 machine deep inside his chest. There’s no way this thing could have it too. He just had to make sure.

He just had to _pull_.

But before he could it spasmed and turned into light before his very eyes.

Nothing was left in its wake once it dissipated. It’s knife, the fluid it had spilled, nothing existed but the cut in his side and the constant thrum of his own 808 trying to catch up to him. Havve knelt there, fingers still hooked, ready to eviscerate at a moment’s notice.

Phobos was right.

He really was a monster.

The realization slammed into him. But wasn’t it self preservation, he tried to reason with himself, but even that wasn't a comfort. No, you had been eager for this, thrilled at the prospect to fight, to rend and tear and lay waste. He cupped his hands to his face plate, bending at the waist. He wanted this mask off but there was nothing to be had under it.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

H A V V E.

He jerked in surprise before looking up, looking left and right.

P H O B O S ?

H E R E.

The red of his suit was all too easy to find then as he made his way forward through the fog. Careful and measured steps, keeping just enough distance to remind him of what he had just been tearing himself up over. Havve let his hands fall into his lap for a moment before he forced himself to stand. W H A T H A P P E N E D ? The Lepid asked.

S O M E T H I N G S T R A N G E. It’s too hard to explain it like this, with beats and pauses and measured clicks, and he doesn’t really want to admit to it either, if he’s being completely honest with himself. I C A N ‘ T C O N T A C T S U N G. I T M A Y J U S T B E T H I S L O C A T I O N.

Phobos touched the top of his helmet and dragged his hands downwards before hugging his arms around himself. I N E E D Y O U T O T R U S T M E. Havve clicked at him slowly. W E N E E D T O S T A Y O N T H E M O V E.

Phobos’s shoulders moved with a silent sigh before he nodded slowly, finally closing the space between himself and Havve. Progress, the robot couldn’t help but think. Something to come out of this, hopefully. A R E Y O U O K A Y ?

Phobos’s neck bent just so as he angled his head in question, seeming to not understand. Y O U D I S A P P E A R E D. Havve hesitated at the end, not sure if he ought to phrase it as a question or a statement.

I G O T L O S T. Phobos informed him, tracing his hand through the fog. B U T T H E N I H E A R D A L L T H E N O I S E. He added, simple as that.

His 808 slowed and finally Havve allowed himself to ease away from that on edge place that he had found himself in. This was Phobos, not one of those strange and savage doppelgangers hunting them through the gloom. He forced himself into standing and approached the other male, tucking his knife away as he did. R E A D Y ? Phobos tilted his head up at him and nodded after a moment. T H E N L E T ‘ S G O.

They plunged into the fog and didn’t look back.

-

There were too many people here in this strange mirror world. Phobos nearly fell over himself as he scrambled back from their reaching hands and begging eyes. More bodies pressed against his back and he could feel scream after scream try to crawl their way up his throat, desperate to be heard. He threw his hands out, hands shaking as he pushed weaky at their encroaching forms.

“Stop!” A voice called out in Universal, echoing through the space. Slowly everyone began to pull away but Phobos stayed where he was, ducked in on himself, hands over his head as he tried to find his breath once more. Their steps echoed out through the space and eventually came to pause right before him. “Are you alright?”

Slowly Phobos looked up and found a slender alien with three eyes and a pert mouth staring down at him. He didn’t answer at first, instead forcing himself to look at the rest of them. Pearlescent skin, milky eyes, not a color to be seen but his own painfully red suit. Finally he looked back to the being before him, not sure if he should shake his head or nod. “...Can you speak?” They said after a beat.

That was easy enough. He shook his head, eagerly almost, glad that they had been able to pick up and make sense of his hesitation. The other alien sighed deeply but nodded in response. “You understand though, so that is good. It appears as though you have fallen prey to the Anatta.”

Anatta? Phobos straightened himself out and cocked his head in question. The other aliens shifted some, letting out various noises of pain and frustration. “The strange lights.” They explained gently. “They are a legion of parasites that travel through the cosmos. They are without form or self until they find a new shape to take, a mirror image of sorts, if you will. That is how we have all found ourselves here, friend. It took on shape after shape of our loved ones, lured us into this prison of theirs. They have bled out our world, ourselves…”

Someone keened in the distance and Phobos’s heart ached with it. He looked up above them, finding the surface of the lake seemingly infinite miles above them. How could it be so far? His breath hitched and he closed his eyes under his helmet, trying to catch it once more before it ran away from him. How had this happened so fast? How could he be here now in this dying world?

He had just wanted to to help…

H A V V E. He tapped quickly. There was nothing on the other end, causing his stomach to twist up into knots. What was going on up there? Did Havve even know he had gone missing? Breathe, Phobos. Breathe…

Too long fingers found his shoulders and touched upon them lightly, squeezing them. “Relax, child.” The first alien hummed soothingly. “We need you to focus.” Those hands came up and Phobos watched in confusion as their digits began to curl and hook and swipe through the air. “This is sign language, are you not aware of it?”

Another shake of his head. “Well, we will teach you then.” He held up his hands, shaking his head faster. He didn’t have the time, didn’t want yet another loophole to pass through on his vow, didn’t want an excuse... The alien’s eyes closed slowly before opening once more, their second pair of clear lids lingering. “Child, what else do you expect to do here? We need your story. You cannot speak therefore you will _learn_. Basics, at the very least.”

There was something despairing in their eyes. Phobos eyed the rest of the strange alien race from behind his dark visor, seeing the way that they stared back just as desperately, their hands clutched to their chests, not once breaking their gazes.

Guilt won out. He nodded and the alien smiled back in a small and sweet way before raising their hand up to their mouth, gesturing outward. “That is how you say thank you.” They informed him. “And that is where our lesson begins.”

It was strangely slow learning. They would loop back to words at the beginning and Phobos’s mind would struggle to remember how to hold his arm, how to angle his fingers, mind straying back to Havve and Sung and even Meouch, a world away and above him. Some of other the aliens disappeared into the strange city that lay beyond them but some stayed, children mostly, most of them looking at the red of his suit with wide and wanting eyes.

“ _Color?_ ” He signed out after some time, letter by letter, finding that easier than the overall phrases. The other alien nodded in approval but their eyes were terribly sad as they did.

“We lost it over time. The Anatta took that from us and much more from us too. Our memories, our being. We fade eventually, nothing left. Parasites.” The last word comes in a hard hiss. “Even our names have been lost to us. Spell yours now, child. Who are you?”

A loaded question indeed. Who was he? All he had wanted to be was nothing, to no longer hold his title, the legacy of his people upon his shoulders. There was no hiding from that though, even with a mask on his face.

“ _Phobos_ .” He spelled out slowly. “ _Lord Phobos._ ”

“A lord! Like a king!” One of the children whispered with wide eyes, breaking the silence that followed with joy and wonder. Phobos felt a laugh nearly come out of him and pressed his lips together before waggling his hand in front of him, a see-saw motion of kind of-sort of.

“Is there a Lord Deimos then, too?” The older alien smiled, causing Phobos to freeze.

(In-out, spell it out, one finger after another, breathe.)

“ _Once._ ” He finally forced himself to respond. “ _There were many of us._ ”

Until there weren’t.

He folded his hands in his lap and curled his fingers into fists. He had never been a fighter, none of them had been on his home planet. And yet despite that he had found the capability within himself to take up the sword, to let his rage take him to a place where he could face down the boy who had ripped off his wings and helped destroy his world and skewer him through with one well placed blow.

He _lived_ with that boy now because of pure chance and coincidence. Skirted past him in hallways, kept his distance, watched him with wary eyes. Seeing Meouch open his eyes once more after it had happened, seeing the way Sung hovered over the Leoian with bloodied hands pressed against his chest, Phobos realized it didn’t _matter_. Meouch had been deep in withdrawal when they had faced each other, on the defense, fighting back only because it was expected of him, not because he wanted to like Phobos had. It wasn’t his fault. It had never been his fault…

But how did you ask for forgiveness?

Where did you even begin?

There were hands over his and suddenly he was being enveloped by the other alien. “I have seen my loved ones disappear before my very eyes,” they whispered against the top of his helmet. “Not remembering who they were until someone told me. The ache is like an echo, coming back to me, my own thing and yet something else completely.” They pulled back, eyes closed, head bowed, the very image of remorse. “We have tried to no avail to find our way back to our world time and time again, losing ourselves more each time. You are our last chance, Lord Phobos.” Their eyes opened then and Phobos forced himself to stare back. “You are our hope.”

No. Not just him. Another one he owed too many apologies to. Havve. “ _There is someone else_ .” He signed awkwardly, letter by letter. “ _I came with… with someone._ ” No, he didn’t have the right to call Havve his friend.

Not yet.

Their eyes went wide and they lunged forward, causing the children surrounding him to scatter. “Another?” They breathed. Phobos’s own breath came up short, causing him to jerk away. They stared at each other and the other began to shake their head, muttering under their breath. “This… this is not good.”

Phobos forced himself to still his hands. “ _Why?_ ” He spelled out slowly. “ _What’s happening?_ ”

“The Anatta have been stuck here forever now on this dying planet. No one… No one has ever thought to come here until you did. Nothing to find, nothing to save.” Sung’s earlier words came to him. Places that needed help. Somewhere that had gone off the Federation’s radar, better left that way.

Until they came, of course.

They covered their face with a choked noise. “It saw you and hunted you, took you down here. It’s _becoming_ you. It takes shapes first, appearances, then memories....” They whispered. “It’s only a mirage until it captures you. You become the mirror then, the reflection, the lack.”

The shapes in the fog… Phobos felt his breath seize up in his chest, seemingly impossible to catch once more. It all made sense now, how it hunted him to the lakes edge, all but cornering him. He had known in his heart of hearts that it had been a trap and yet he had thought to make something of himself.

He touched the chest plate Sung had made for him and pulled it away from his sternum, allowing for his chest to expand as he took the deepest breath he could manage, ignoring the way his back scars pulled at the motion. Fill your lungs with air, with possibility. Take it all in and hold it until you ache, until you’re sure you’ll die of it.

And then you won’t.

You’ll live.

For them, you will live.

It would not end here, at the bottom of some impossible lake.

In-out-in.

Phobos reached back and unlocked his helmet, letting it drop to the ground. “ _Then we have to catch it, don't we?_ ” He signed before offering his hand.

They stared at it before taking it into theirs.

“Let’s.” They smiled.

-

Another knee pressed into the ground, the sharpness of his knife following suit, a futile attempt to make a mark in this gods damned world.

Phobos stayed closed, thankfully, his suit and helmet a beacon in the gloaming. He stayed silent though, the softness of his breathing filtering across their communications channel the only reminder that he was real.

Damn it pull yourself together, Hogan.

He had never had doubts like this before. He knew what he was, _who_ he was. He had clawed his way out of the wastes and found himself along Sung’s side, the empath the perfect anchor. Sung knew how to make sense of Havve, to dig deep into those feelings that he shouldn’t have, lining them up in such a way that Havve was able to evaluate them, draw them out if need be…

But here there was nothing. Nothing but himself and his doubts.

H O W L O N G ?

Phobos’s question caused him to look up from the pitiful gouge in the ground. Apparently an hour and a half had passed, something that Havve wasn’t quite ready to believe but had to accept all the same. Another hour or so until finally Sung came back to pick them up. That was the hope, anyways. There was still the fact that his link was next to nothing inside of him, not a hint of the empath to be found.

O N E M O R E H O U R. Havve stood at his full height. There was nothing here. How could there be nothing? He hated that Sung had just dumped them here with no kind of research. How stupid could he be?

Just what had happened here, anyways?

G O O D. Phobos touched the back of his neck, rubbing it absently before turning to him. H A V V E, A B O U T E A R L I E R.

Don’t ask about it. His 808 sped up, causing his fist to clench at his side. It didn’t go unnoticed by Phobos, who took one look and drew back a half step. I J U S T W A N T E D T O S A Y… T H E R E M I G H T H A V E B E E N S O M E T H I N G.

He didn’t like the sound of something but it was better than nothing. E X P L A I N.

I C O U L D N ‘ T T E L L. M A Y B E A C R A T E R, M A Y B E A L A K E. T H I S F O G. He cut off abruptly, shaking his head, putting his hands on his hips as he did. C A N ‘ T S E E A N Y T H I N G.

A landmark of sorts. Giving a source to this endless fog helped him calm slightly. He had something to pursue now. Find the source of the fog and go from there. Maybe they could find the source of the SOS too. He had tried to pick up on it but to no avail as they continued on, whatever tech it had come from long dead now. O K A Y. Havve approached him, turning up the brightness on his optics. L E A D T H E W A Y.

The Lepid hesitated, still standing in place W E P R O B A B L Y W O N ‘ T F I N D I T.

B E T T E R T H A N N O T H I N G. He reiterated his earlier thoughts. Anything was at this point. L E T ‘ S G O.

So they did.

Havve counted down the time as they went along. An hour turned into forty five minutes and then thirty before his very eyes and there was nothing to show for it except for more markings under his feet and a rapidly depleting battery. Phobos just kept going though, never once slowing or stopping.

And just like that, through the incessant fog and growing fatigue, Havve lost him.

P H O B O S. He clicked angrily. C O M E O N. Getting lost once was one thing but all he wanted was for the other male to stay close until they had found whatever landmark they had been looking for. Silence followed and his earlier doubts made themselves known.

Was he ever real? Was any of this? Play back the video, Havve. For a moment he stayed there, completely unable to move. What if there was nothing there? What if everything from before was gone too?

No.

Please no.

He reached up and cranked the screw at his jaw over and over, not thinking anything of it until it came off in his hand with a sharp _snap!_ that bounced around his head over and over again. His optics strayed to it, taking in its rustiness, the sharp edge that it tapered off into. The robot side of him took over as he did in a futile attempt to categorize it, just like it did whenever he lost himself in the perfect rhythm of his 808 and broke his drumsticks. There was still the cut in his side too in desperate need of repair. Havve dropped the nail and dug his fingers into it without a second thought, peeling it further back to expose the wires.

Stop. This is wrong! Something tried to tell him, stupidly similar to Sung’s voice, but he was losing that part of himself. Sung had wanted to remake him, hadn’t he? He was just getting a head start on the process…

He saw himself whole in the depths of the fog, the only difference it’s still dead eyes.

Havve stared at it with a growing sense of glee. He’d kill it, break free of it’s hold. He didn’t care if Phobos found him like this. He just had to be better again, even if that meant becoming what he had once been.

Maybe that was the better Havve anyways.

He didn’t even hesitate, flying at his other self. It caught his arm and twisted it but he didn’t care, didn’t care as it’s knee came up and slammed into his stomach, didn’t care as the gods awful processors Sung installed in him registered that as _pain_ , as something to run away from. No, this was real. The pain was real, the fight, the need.

No knife this time, only his hands coming around it’s throat, pinning it to the ground, squeezing as tight as he could. I’m the real one, not you. You don’t get to take that from me. He wished he could scream it at the creature under him but instead all he can do is reach up to it’s mask and pull-

He found Phobos’s face underneath.

No.

The Lepid was terrified and fading fast. No, no, no. His 808 tripped up at the sight, causing his processors to come to a screeching halt and his thoughts to scatter. Havve gave a violent shudder, edging towards a short circuit. It had happened in the past before and Sung had always been there to reboot him and put him back online- but Sung wasn’t here.

And neither was Phobos.

Havve brought his knife down hard and fast before his doubts could crowd in too close. It pierced through and slid into the Lepid without any kind of resistance. They both stared at the protruding end of his knife, Phobos mouth working soundlessly as everything caught up to Havve.

And then it disappeared in a flurry of light, leaving only his knife behind.

He stared at that spot before slowly bringing his arms around himself. Not a moment’s hesitation, he realized with startling clarity. You killed Phobos just like that.

Monster.

I ‘ M S O R R Y Havve clicked across the silence. His left arm was damaged, his side was still damaged too, and there was the fact that his jaw was still unhinged. He hugged himself tighter, rocking forward. I ‘ M S O S O R R Y.

He forced himself to look up in case another one of the creatures was lingering.

He found Phobos at the edge of the lake waiting for him.

He was without his helmet, staring down into it, none the wiser to the fact that Havve was there behind him. How do you know Havve? Was that really him or something else?

Only one way to find out.

He took step after dragging step towards the Lepid, his knife now grasped in his hand. It wasn’t a comfort any longer, instead a reminder of what he had done, what he could still do. The distance seemed to stretch on infinitely but eventually Havve found himself standing over the other male, not daring to look at the lake, instead keeping his optics trained on the back of Phobos’s head.

Please, he begged silently. Please be real.

He turned and looked up with those huge eyes of his, lips parting just so before he pressed them back up against each other again with a sheepish look. F O U N D I T. He tapped out against the ground, a smiling blooming across his features. L O O K. He reached out and pointed his index finger to the center of the lake, blissfully unaware of the fact that Havve had wrapped his fingers around his neck only moments before, that he had killed him...

(No, not him, don’t think of it like that, it wasn’t him.)

Havve looked up slowly, following the line of vision, finding himself staring back like a mirror, coming closer and closer, reaching towards him as he reached out.

The image shattered by a hand breaking through the surface, grabbing onto Phobos’s arm.

-

“ _How did I end up here in the first place?_ ” They had made rounds around the entire city, if you could even call the dilapidated mess that. It too was fading, lost to time and the Anatta’s hunger. It was all coming a bit easier now, the signing, but he was still clumsy and learning. At least they understood him, and at least he had his letters. “ _I remember falling._ ”

They smoothed their hands over their scalp and down the back of their neck, sighing heavily. “Yes. It pulled you in. The surface of the lake is where it preys.”

“ _I saw you, you saw me..._ “ He paused and adjusted his helmet in his grip as they came to the center of the city. _“Was it fast?_ ”

They shook their head. “No, slowly. It doesn’t want you damaged, after all. The longer it can feed off you, the better. So it let you down gently into our world.” They gestured out around them, snorting under their breath. “Moreso it's world, but no matter.”

Phobos paced in a slow circle before casting his face up once more to the dimly lit surface, nothing but gray to be found. “ _I don’t think this is real._ ” He signed. “ _I think it’s an illusion of sorts._ ”

“Oh?” The other alien hummed as they came to stand at his side, head cocking in interest. “And what makes you say that, little lordling?”

“ _I saw you all and you were all so close._ ” He splayed his fingers out as he reached up, up, up, trying to see how far he could manage. If he had his wings he could just fly up to it, see how far it really was. He came back down and angled an arm behind him awkwardly, touching his spine, remembering the perfect shape and weight of his wings. He brought his hands in front of him again, working through the rest of his thought. “ _Was I close?_ ”

“Not at all, child. We saw the fog part and the lights and then you fell.” They had a curious light in their eye. “We still have not spoken about how you first came to the mirror, now that I think of it. Tell me what happened.”

“ _I…_ ” He curled his fingers some, hesitating. “I started walking, lost myself in the fog. It separated us.” He pushed his hands through his shorn hair, nails scraping along his scalp. “ _Then I saw things, I panicked and ran_.”

“It likes to play tricks like that.” They laughed ruefully. “Sometimes it’s a chase, sometimes it’s a lure.” They touched his shoulders again like earlier, leaning in close. “It gets in your head, turns you against yourself.”

Phobos forced himself to go back. What had he really seen in the fog that had forced him to run so fast? Had it been Deimos? Or perhaps Charon or Titania, or maybe even little Io? Worse yet, the Elders staring down at him in disappointment. He had gotten away and what did he have to show for it? The Leoian smuggling crews were still at large, Meouch was still alive, and he had casted off his crown to the shadows

Running always had seemed like the right answer until it wasn’t.

“ _What did you see_?” He forced his hands to speak for his sake. Their hands came off his shoulders as they took a step away and turned.

“My partner. They guilted me to the water’s edge. I cannot remember their face now, their name, but when it happened I was so overjoyed and yet…” They closed their eyes and drew in a shuddering breath, misery unfolding. “Yet I felt shame as I made my way to them. I had lost them, had wandered the fog and let countless others be lost to it with eyes only for them. We sat there, they were everything I remembered, and then they prompted me to look into water. I was such a fool.” They cupped their face and groaned. “I saw myself and not them, and when I looked back they had black eyes and I screamed, but it was too late. I was pulled down and found myself here.”

In the mirror, they meant, the reflection.

The lack.

“ _Reflect_.” Phobos nearly breathed the word out loud but caught himself. " _It forces you to reflect! You said it yourself, they turned you against yourself! It looks into our fears, whether we know them or not, and forces us to face them. That’s why it’s winning, because we keep letting our fears win, our regrets!_ ” He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “ _You have to forgive yourself._ ”

“How can I? They’re gone now, I was too late.” They shake their head desperately. “And everyone else? The children!” Tears began to track down their face as they stifled their cries behind their hands. “Years, Phobos! We have been trapped here for years, losing ourselves with each passing day!”

 _Then it’s up to me_ , Phobos realized with a start. He looked up again to the surface of the lake and touched their back gently. “ _It’s okay._ ” He signed. There was no way of telling how much time had passed since he ended up here, what was happening above, but that couldn’t stop him. There was still Havve to think about, and Sung and Meouch, and everybody else beyond.

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

Phobos still didn’t dare speak and gods forbid if they expected that of him, but he still mouthed the words as he stood at the center of the depths. It felt strange and alien, but he continued to speak upwards and outwards to whatever could hear him. “ _I’m sorry for hiding and running. For not trying._ ” He closed his eyes and clutched his helmet to his chest. _“I’m sorry.”_

He saw them then when he opened his eyes, as close as could be, Havve and himself (but not) at the edge of the water. He gave a gasp but there was no reaction whatsoever. But how? Sung’s earlier words came to him suddenly, his brain finally catching up to him. You can see out but they can’t see in! bouncing around in his head over and over as he watched in silent horror. 

And despite every fear he had held concerning Havve, despite not knowing if it would work or not, he thrust his hand up-!

And felt something break.

His companion gasped from a million miles away but Phobos didn’t dare look back, instead grabbing the Anatta’s wrist, hard. It stared back with his eyes, his mouth, his _everything,_ screwed up in a rage he had not felt in ages. You’re not me, Phobos nearly screamed at it. Nothing could ever be me.

It would never know fear first hand like he had when the first flame caught. Wouldn’t know the utter defeat that had settled in his stomach like lead when Meouch had ripped his wings off his back, more acceptance than anything in the face of his planets destruction. If Deimos couldn’t fly why should you, he had told himself as it happened. This is what you deserve…

But he deserved more than that. More than this, fading away into nothing, becoming even less than a memory as the world drifted away. He deserved those moments where Havve had managed to make him smile, where he had stood across from Meouch and hadn’t felt the need to scream or run, those moments where Sung’s arms came around him and the empath told him that it would be alright. He deserved those and more.

And so did everyone here.

Havve watched as he pulled, his face unreadable from the other side. Phobos’s eyes found his own dim optics and for a moment they stared at each other. Please, he silently willed him. See me. See me for who I really am. It finally started to fight back, throwing a frantic look over his shoulder at Havve.

The robot raised his index finger to the side of his helmet, tapping each letter out slowly. R E A L ?

His grip was starting to slip but Phobos could see now that Havve’s jaw was unhinged, that there were wires spilling out his side. What had happened while he had been trapped here? Phobos looked again into those optics until his eyes strained from it, swallowing thickly.

“ _Real_.” He mouthed as his grip began to falter.

Havve moved too fast to make sense of, his right hand pushing the other Phobos against the mirror as his left pulled him up. The Anatta’s eyes met his and its face shifted into Havve’s, into Sung and Meouch and Deimos and then so many more until it was him again but it wasn’t. His hair was longer, not as long as it was before the massacre, but still longer yet. A slimmer face too with a knowing look about it that Phobos couldn’t make sense of before everything shattered.

Phobos wasn’t sure if it was the lake first or Havve’s arm. Maybe they happened at the same time, but he saw the way the robot’s arm broke off from him without any kind of warning. Phobos fell back with it, lips parting with surprise-

Only to smack against the water behind him.

He came up with a spluttering noise, looking about him. Other heads were surfacing now as well and the fog was lifting around them. “Phobos! Lord Phobos!” His friend called as they swam to him. “You did it!” Their arms came around him and he struggled to stay afloat as he hugged them back, unable to keep the smile off his face. “And your friend!”

Havve. Phobos had let the robot’s arm float away from him and it was now brushing up against the edge of the lake, bobbing in wait. Phobos slipped out of the embrace and swam up to the edge as well, finding Havve waiting there, his face as unreadable as the day they first met.

Y O U S A V E D M E. He tapped out against the metal arm. Havve tilted his head and knelt down until they were eye level.

N O. The robot tapped back against the top of Phobos’s hand. Y O U S A V E D M E.

An arm around him then, pulling him in close. Phobos didn’t even hesitate as he brought his own arms up and around the robot, hugging him back just as tightly. W E H A V E A L O T T O T A L K A B O U T. Havve’s fingers drummed across his shoulder, backed up by the constant thrum of the device and 808 in his chest. F R I E N D.

Yeah.

Friends.

-

Sung was terrified when he found them.

Havve couldn’t blame him. After all Phobos was sopping wet and without his helmet, and the robot didn’t need his internal systems screaming at him that he was nearly beyond repair at this point, moments away from shutting down, to know that he looked like shit too. There was also the fact that every alien that belonged here looked like a ghost, unsure of what to do with themselves now that they had freed them from that strange prison of theirs.

Still, Phobos smiled at him now, and everything made sense now too. Creatures that had no self, who existed only when they had something to reflect… No wonder he hadn’t been able to see it or make sense of it. Phobos’s friend had comforted him as best as they could during the explanation. “You’re not like other things it has faced. It had to not just put you on the edge, but drive you to it.” They told him, touching his broken jaw. “But you won.”

Despite everything, he had won.

“So, first things first, jet pack.” Sung was saying to Phobos as they did their final rounds. “Seriously, a jet pack. It’s going to be great. You can fly around and you can get the high ground and none of this stupid bullshit will ever happen ever again.”

 _First things first you help fix me up, Sung._ The robot noted dryly. Sung shot him a look and huffed through his nose. _And then I help with the jetpack._

“Okay fair.” When Phobos tilted his head in question Sung grinned at him. “Havve’s asking that I fix him up first, give him priority.”

“ _It’s only fair_ .” Phobos signed out letter by letter. “ _Maybe you tell us your story while you do and we’ll tell you ours_.” The corner of his lips twitched up and Sung quirked his eyebrow in response before he was grinning too.

“Throw in whatever the fuck you’re doing with your hands and we’ve got a deal.”

Was he ready to tell Sung what had happened? He still had the panic and fear locked away behind a wall so he wouldn’t upset the empath. He had a feeling Sung was doing the same to him as well. There had to be a reason their link had died without warning, leaving him stranded with his too human thoughts and fears. The empath’s eyes met his and slowly he found himself nodding.

 _Fair._ He said to Sung, staying silent for now. _Can we go now?_

 _Yeah, yeah, yeah._ He had made sure everyone was as good as they could be, confirming they’d be back at the end of the month to check in on the newfound aliens with as much information as he could find. Leave it to Sung, of course, to unofficially adopt an alien race of Lumachroma as his own. “Meouch stayed back, he's been working on some repairs, so let me just send him a comm…” Repairs? Just _what_ had these two gotten into?

Phobos’s hand came over Sung’s on his wrist comm. The empath stared back, head tilting in question as Phobos shook his head back and forth. “ _I want to see him._ ” A pause, Phobos’s fingers still waiting in the air, almost like a conductor… “ _Please._ ”

Sung looked to him and he translated. “...Okay.” Sung said after a beat, a million questions that Havve couldn’t answer coming his way in the meanwhile. When he realized that he shrugged, seeming to accept it for now. “Let’s go.”

Neither he or Sung were sure what to expect when they came up to the ship, finding Meouch with his goggles over his eyes and a soldering tool in his hands, but it _definitely_ wasn’t Phobos going to stand before the Leoian, spine straight and eyes wide, his fists clenched loosely at his sides.

“ _I’m sorry._ ” He spelled out before throwing a look over his shoulder at Sung, motioning helplessly when Meouch’s head tilted in question. The Leoian was different now too, not as much as Phobos but still, Havve saw something there. He didn’t shy away from Phobos, instead staring right up at him.

“He says he’s sorry. Feels that way, right Havve?” The robot sighed internally but nodded in agreement, confirming it. “Yeah, he’s sorry alright.”

“...Fer what?” The Leoian snorted. “I deserved-”

Without warning, Phobos kicked him.

Nothing violent. Just the end of his boot catching Meouch’s kneecap without any kind of warning. Meouch jumped a bit and gave Phobos a bewildered look. “The fuck was that?” He yelped.

Phobos kicked him again. “Hey, stop it!” Meouch snapped.

“I think he wants you to like, accept the apology!” Sung yelled at them, amusement bouncing down their link. “Just a thought, but that’s just me.”

 _And me, tell him._ Havve informed the empath, surprising him.

“Oh and apparently Havve!” Sung snorted in amusement, putting his hands on his hips. “Dang, this really _was_ a good idea. We’re already getting along better already!”

“A good idea!” Meouch jumped up, striding past Phobos. “A good idea!” He shouted. “Are you kidding me?! You drag my ass into a gods damned metal jungle made up whatever the fuck it was, making it impossible to use neither your telepathic link or your empath shit? Where we were then attacked and chased by-”

Sung shot Havve a nervous look before taking a few insistent steps forward. “MEOUCH.” He warned. “I HAVEN’T TOLD THEM ANYTHING _YET_!”

Meouch pushed his goggles up his head, an ugly grin coming this features. “Fantastic, because I’m about to tell them everything, starting with-!”

Someone giggled, forcing Meouch to shut up. It happened again, a hissing between breath as they tried to stop only to realize it was impossible.

Phobos, Havve balked. It had been Phobos.

He gave another small giggle, barely above a whisper, before he doubled over himself with delight. Meouch blinked and so did Sung but Havve felt himself smile on the inside at it. Soon Sung was smiling too and jogging up to Phobos as Meouch threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. But Havve saw his smile too, barely there but a hint of it all the same.

It was something. Havve thought as he turned his face up towards the clearing sky.

Something was better than nothing, after all.

It was _real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading!! This was super fun to write and just try something outside my usual shipping stuff and SLM. 
> 
> The title itself is inspired by Mac Demarco's Chamber of Reflection. I was hoping to incoperate it somehow and came to realize it was a little too personal in it's story telling, but the concept it was based off wasn't! Chambers of Reflection are used by freemasons to reflect on themselves with alchemical symbols guiding them. The most important comes from V.I.T.R.I.O.L
> 
> "V.I.T.R.I.O.L." or vitriol (sulphuric acid) is interpreted as "visita interiora terrae, rectificandoque, invenies occultum lapidem", or "visit the interior of the earth, and purifying it, you will find the hidden stone." This is another way of saying "look within yourself for the truth"
> 
> Looking into one's self and finding what hides inside is what this boiled down to, and in a sense Mac does that in his song as well. The Anatta are based off of one of the Buddhist self doctrines of "non-self." There is no permanent self. So beings looking to find themselves, stealing and preying, making themselves out of nothing that isn't theirs is what I wanted to play with. When they look in, they find nothing, and so they seek something. They're hungry and desperate, they're a predator through and through.
> 
> I guess last notes are that Havve and Phobos have extremely different reactions to the situation, which was interesting to write. Phobos was always meant to be this character who knew what he could do but refused to do it, too scared and hurt to. Havve, on the other hand, seesaws. He goes from embracing that cold side of himself to wanting to reject it, to become better. It becomes something that unsettles him and unhinges him from this reality as it makes itself more known, and the Anatta prey on that, warping reality in a way where he has to force himself to become that thing he's starting to hate more and more.
> 
> I'd like to write Sung and Meouch's journey some day. And continue on from there as well. But that's in the far off future. Thanks again for reading, and as always, feel free to send me requests and tell me if it was good, bad, weird... stupid... I never get constructive criticism so it'd be nice lol


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